


Five Times the Team Struggles, and the First Time They Don't

by Love_Me_Some_Grayson



Series: Forever a Team 'Verse [3]
Category: DCU, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Platonic Soulmates, Psychic Bond, Team as Family, but not an au, emotional link
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-26 02:36:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18274076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_Me_Some_Grayson/pseuds/Love_Me_Some_Grayson
Summary: Five times the Team asks for Kaldur's advice, and the first time he asks for theirs.~Five times Artemis feels an outsider, and the first time she realizes she isn't.~Five times Wally feels like a failure, and the first time he's proved wrong.~Five times Dick injures himself on a mission, and the first time he's called out on it.~Five times M'Gann considers going back home, and the first time she realizes she's found it.~Five times Conner gets angry with his team, and the first time he gets angry for them.





	1. Kaldur'ahm

**Author's Note:**

> Unedited; I'll go over mistakes soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times the team turns to Kaldur, and the first time he turns to them.

**The first time, it’s Wally.**

“Hey, Kal?”

Kaldur looks up from the finer workings of his weapons. He gestures for Wally to sit across from him with an encouraging smiling. “Of course, Wally. What do you need?”

Wally seems shocked at how easily Kaldur interpreted his stance. Whatever is plaguing his mind clearly takes precedent when he sits down.

“I, um.” Emerald eyes drift off somewhere else as Wally collects his thoughts. “I was thinking that I could move in with Aunt Iris and Uncle Barry? And I figured it would really help me, you know? To be around another speedster? And Aunt Iris is so so kind to me—”

“I do not see what you need my council for, Wally,” Kaldur said, not unkindly. “You seem to know what you want.”

“I know what I _want_ ,” Wally insists. “I just… I don’t know if it’s what I should do.”

Deliberation isn't an expression often found on Wally's face. It's barely even something he gives a passing thought. As Kaldur looks on now, he sees that Wally is equally put out by his own uncertainty.

“Are you comfortable with telling me what exactly is making this decision a difficult one for you?” Having as much information as he can get his hands on has always been the best way to help those he cares about. 

Wally is quick to shake his head, fear pulling every muscle in his body taught. “I—”

“That is more than okay, Wally. I will not pry.” Kaldur leans back in his seat, posture still formal in a Kaldur way. “I just hope that my advice is enough to help you along the right path.”

Kaldur wishes there was more light behind that smile. “I… thanks, Kal. Really.”

 

 

**The second time, it’s M’gann.**

“I promise,” M’gann whispers, “they’re good!”

“With all due respect, M’gann.” Kaldur eyes the tray of freshly baked "cookies" strangely. “These look… odd.” Lumpy, scary, life-threatening-- _odd_  is the  gentlest way Kaldur can think of describing them.

“Please, Kaldur? I promise I won’t ask you again.” She looks down in embarrassment, cheeks warming. “For today, at least.”

Kaldur makes a sound that would almost be a laugh if it hadn’t gotten stuck somewhere in his throat. “I suppose I will try them.” He plucks one of the maybe-cookies off the tray. “But only because I have the utmost faith that I will not be poisoned by the consumption.”

“I… make no promises?”

Kaldur bites down on the cookie, ready to spit it out—in the most graceful way, of course—but he’s pleasantly surprised when the perfect balance of almond and chocolate floods his tongue. While waiting for his judgement, M'gann sets down the cookie tray 

“M’gann,” he says softly. “I, and I do not say this lightly, will be demanding these of you on a regular basis.”

M'gann lights up like the sun, floating off the ground and doing a flip that even Robin would be jealous of. “Really?”

“I cannot lie,” he sighs, “these are spectacular.”

It should be impossible, but her ecstatic grin opens even more. “Thank you so much, Kaldur.”

M’gann’s eyes drop down to the cookies on the counter. Her demeanour instantly changes, from fun and joyous to calculating and unsure. She floats back down, gaze not coming back up to meet Kaldur’s. “Am I… too much?”

Kaldur’s brow shoots up towards his hairline. “I am afraid I do not know what you mean.”

“I mean…” She takes a breath, shoulders just this side of unsteady as she sets down the tray. “You’re all so cool. Even Wally seems too cool for me. I feel like I’m a burden you were all forced to take on because Uncle J’onn asked you to.” Her eyes shimmer like amber stones with tears. “I just think I’m too much. And not enough. All at the same time.”

Kaldur moves to open his mouth, reassure her in some way or another, but M’gann beats him to the punch.

“I’m sorry; I know it really isn’t that common to pour out your heart, especially here—”

“M’gann.” Kaldur steps forward, placing a strong hand on her shoulder. He hopes to give her the confidence she needs with his touch. “Your spot on this team was made because you have proved yourself capable of handling it. We value you.”

It isn’t the perfect reassurance, and he’s not exactly sure he could have given one, but she goes a touch more lax, and he thinks it’s enough of a victory for now.

 

 

 **The third time, it’s Conner**.

He doesn’t do much talking. Not at first, anyway.

Kaldur is on the floor, reading a book his King had lent him some time ago. He notes Conner’s arrival, but as time has shown, it’s best to let him come to you instead of seeking him out. Much like a stray dog, which, Kaldur thinks with amusement, is quite accurate.

Conner dances around him for what is much too long. Kaldur, though, ever-patient, keeps his focus on the text in front of him.

“I shouldn’t care what he thinks, right?”

 _Ah_. That’s what this is about. “Are you talking about your… _lack_ of relationship with Superman?”

“I didn’t say that.” Defensive, sippy--Kaldur hit the nail on the head. 

Honestly, Kaldur is glad he’s the one Conner decided to come to; he tends to take every twitch of the face in the worst way possible.

“It was implied, no?” Kaldur asks.

Conner huffs in irritation. “I—Yeah, okay, it was.” Something in him must snap, because he’s turning to leave the room. “You know what, I’m just gonna leave.”

“I hope you are not leaving because you think I’m uninterested.” Kaldur tilts his head. “Or that I think you silly.”

Beats pass as Conner stands awkwardly in the space between the living room and the kitchen. “How’d you know?”

“I do not need to be a Martian to know what is upsetting you so much, my friend.” Kaldur fits his bookmark into the spine of the book, placing it down beside him to give Conner a meaningful stare. “Superman has been… less than open to your presence, that much is obvious. You are more than in the right to be upset, because when you stare at each of us, you see people who were trained by people with their powers.” Kaldur cracks a small smile. “Or lack thereof.”

Conner fidgets, movements almost unnoticeable had Kaldur not been looking. He nods. “Okay.”

Conner has always been a person of few words, but his actions are always more meaningful.

 

 

**The fourth time, it’s Robin—Dick?**

“Yo, Kaldur.”

Kaldur sheathes his Water Bearers, chest heaving as his body tries to cool down form his training. “Robin," he pants. "Do you need something?”

“Yeah. Maybe?” Robin eyes the punching back in the far corner, usually only used by him or Artemis; Conner has gone through too many at this point. “Haven’t been very gruntled lately. Very much disgruntled.”

“What is troubling you?”

“So, you know how Batman is about the whole ‘secret identity’ thing. Hence.” He gestures vaguely to the oddly-shaped sunglasses perched on his nose. “And you know that you guys are, like, my friends.”

“I would hope so,” Kaldur jests. Or at least tries too. There’s too much confusion in his voice for much else.

“Well… I figured it was time to, you know, reveal myself.” Robin’s nose scrunches in distaste. “I didn’t like the sound of that.”

“I am afraid I have to agree.”

Robin nods distractedly. “Wally already knows. And that’s not to say that I don’t trust you guys. Because I do. It’s just… it gets annoying inviting your best friend over all the time and pretending to want to wear these stupid things.”

“Are you still asking me something or are you simply venting?” Kaldur asks coolly. He’s not in a particular rush to get Robin moving along, anyhow.

“Right. Sorry. Is both an option?”

“Both is fine, my friend.”

Robin sits them all down later, gives them his name—and Kaldur makes sure to tell Dick that he’s welcome to rant-vent anytime he likes.

 

 

 **The fifth time, it’s Artemis—well, an attempt was made**.

If Conner is impossible to coax into opening up, Artemis is like a steel crate, immune to even the toughest of crow bars. Her first method of letting out insecurities? Punch things. Second, if her head isn’t completely crowded with intrusive thoughts? Practicing her archery. Beyond those two points, where it’s life-or-death kind of conditions, she cleans. No one dares touch her when he’s in her cleaning phase.

Unless you’re Kaldur, sage of advice and wisdom.

He doesn’t ask her what’s wrong, doesn’t even open his mouth to announce his presence. He simply sits at the bar stool as Artemis tries to scrub out a stain Wally and Dick will not reveal the origin of.

“Kaldur,” she grinds out, “ _what_?”

“I do not recall asking you anything.”

Her blonde hair whips menacingly as she spins on her heel—but _nothing_ matches the fury in her eyes.

“You don’t want to be smart with me right now.”

“If I remember correctly—and I know I do—you’re the one to be smart with the team and me.”

Her eyes narrow even further, sending a shiver of terror down Kaldur’s spine that he rarely ever feels. “ _Kaldur_.”

“Artemis,” Kaldur soothes, “you are a member of this team. Do not be afraid to turn to us.”

He doesn’t expect much else than the scoff he receives. “Yeah, _right_.” Artemis’ hand almost blurs with how vigorously she’s scrubbing at the spot. “What the _fuck_ did they _do_? We don’t even have that much space in this kitchen to ruin, and they’ve _managed it_ —” She stops short.

Kaldur’s brows draw together as he considers slipping off the stool and taking a step towards her. He sees her lip wobble, and he banishes the thought. “I will be in the training room if you need me, Artemis.”

He makes to leave just as Artemis’ voice, shakier and more feeble than it was before, reaches his ears. “What… would you do if—never mind.”

“Artemis—”

“I said _never mind_. I have to fix Kid Mouth’s mistake.”

Kaldur sighs; sealed tighter than Batman’s vault with the Kryptonite enclosed.

 

 

 **\+ when he turns to all of them**.

“Kal,” Dick whispers reassuringly, “you’re our leader.”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts.” M’gann arches a brow at him, eerily resembling his own expression. “Don’t doubt yourself.”

Kaldur takes a deep breath as he reads over the mission file once more. “You all truly believe me to be the best option for leader?”

“Kaldur,” Wally chuckles, “frankly, you’re the only option.” Dick glares from behind his mask. It’s true, but that doesn’t mean he has to hear it.

“What if--?”

“Nope.” Artemis walks up to him, placing her hands on his shoulders as a smirk plays at her lips. “So what if we get blown up? It wouldn’t be anything _new_.”

“That does not give me _confidence_ —”

“We’ll be okay, Kaldur.” Conner gives him a serene look.

“I am just going to ask one more time: you think I am the one member of this team who should occupy the position of leader?”

“So _technical_ ,” Dick huffs. “Yes, Kaldur, we think you should be leader.”

“Alright then.” Kaldur closes the mission assignment. “Let’s go.”


	2. Conner... Kent?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times Conner gets angry with his team, and the first time he gets angry _for_ them.

**The first time, Robin doesn’t react much.**

Hindsight it twenty-twenty. Or whatever the saying is.

Conner realizes that Robin, protégé of Batman, is no stranger to emotionally constipated people. Except, you know, Conner has the ability to shatter bones without so much as a bead of sweat breaking free.

Robin is levelling him with a stare. It can’t actually be seen behind his glasses, but it’s there; Conner knows it is.

“We’re here for you, Conner, really.”

Conner is only annoyed with the caring gesture. But why's he annoyed? Wally's never annoyed when M'gann does something nice for him, or when Kaldur pats him on the back after a successful mission. His inability to understand his own reaction sends familiar anger flashing in his gut. Robin is still standing there, posture neutral and nonthreatening, so Conner just snarls and stalks off.

Unbelievable.

 

 

**The second time, Wally looks like he got stabbed.**

Wally is excitable, bubbly, fun-loving. He lights up around Robin, goes flirtatious around M’gann, respectful around Kaldur--and when he’s alone, something weirder.

And they’re all things Conner can’t really understand.

When Wally is around Conner, he acts carefree. Like he has no regard for Conner’s abilities. Like his skills aren't worth as much as Robin's or Artemis'.

Like he thinks of Conner as some _joke_.

It takes an elbow to the gut to really send him off.

“Don’t touch me,” he glowers. There’s a typical fury in his eyes, and while Wally would normally back off with his hands up and a smirk on his face, he doesn’t. There’s that _weird_ thing in his eyes. Conner's confused all over again.

“Sorry, man.” His voice is quiet, eyes downcast as he drifts back over to Robin. His steps are deliberate, like he's scared of planting his feet on the floor the wrong way, and Conner picks up on his accelerated heartbeat.

Conner’s eyes narrow slightly, hands shifting in his pockets. Something is really strange about that kid.

 

**The third time, Artemis bristles.**

It’s a disaster from the get-go. Artemis, more subtle in her anger, can be just as volatile as Conner if she so wanted to. It just took a little more coaxing to get her to put in the effort into doing so. 

Conner has no _desire_ to blow up as often as he does, but Artemis made some comment about the rest of the team and he’s really not able to take it.

“What the hell is your problem?” he bellows.

Artemis bristles almost violently. She might not have the height or build that Conner does, but nothing about her is a joke in this moment. “ _Excuse me_?”

“You’re Green Arrow’s niece, I get that.” He makes his way over to her. “But that doesn’t give you the right to _walk in here_ —”

“You better stop now, Superboy.” Tension lays over the both of them, ugly and unmoving. Conner's fists clench at his sides. Artemis' fingers itch to reach for her bow.

“ _Believe me_ ," Artemis says through gritted teeth, "I have no issues about fighting you.”

“Artemis,” Robin admonishes, “back off.”

“Oh, right!” she shouts, throwing her hands up. “Because your precious _clone_ can do no wrong. It’s just me, the new girl.”

Conner feels his chest starting to heave, shroud of anger falling over his mind. “I’m more than a clone.”

“Whatever. I’ll be here next time _you_ get an assignment." She walks away after that, hair swinging like a cat's tail behind her. "Other than that, don’t come looking for me.”

Conner barely withholds from muttering ‘good’.

 

 

**The fourth time, Kaldur reacts like… Kaldur.**

There’s something about the Atlantean that calms Conner down more than any other member of this team. His voice, deep and flowing like an ocean current, was the first thing he heard that wasn’t an intrusive _command_ ; a thought implanted that wasn’t his own.

So, when Conner bares his teeth in a show of his regular anger, Kaldur just looks at him with understanding. _Sympathy_ , his thoughts spit.

 “Why do you _do that_?”

“Conner,” Kaldur says, “you do not see it, but I you’ve made progress. There are some… hiccups, and several times where you jump the gun, but—”

Conner feels his hands clench. “Don’t talk to me like I’m some science experiment, Kaldur.”

“That was not my intention.”

“Yeah, well.” Conner’s teeth grind together for a moment. “It’s what you did.” He turns around, grabbing his jacket off the chair. “I gotta go.”

“Conner—”

“Leave me alone.”

 

 

**The fifth time, M’gann gives him her trademark smile.**

M’gann’s used to his blow ups—which, much to his pride, are less frequent than they used to be—and she knows that it does nothing to treat him like a petulant child. He’s not as outward about his anger, trying his best to focus on his breathing like Dinah had mentioned weeks ago. He thought it was ridiculous back then, but he sees how much value the technique holds. It's proved useful on several occasions.

Another villain managed to throw M’gann into a fire, and frankly, Conner is not too pleased about it. He knows that M’Gann is the strongest of them all, really, and in no way needs his protection but he can’t stop the protectiveness that fights to the surface. The thought of losing her was more terrifying than the thought of her getting angry with him. 

“Conner,” M’gann whispers, “I’m fine.”

“I know you’re fine.”

“So don’t be—”

“You don’t want me hovering over you, I get it. But that doesn’t mean I have to _like_ watching you get hurt.”

“I didn’t…” M’gann looks away. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Yeah, well.”

Conner shrugs off her hand as he leaves the room. He feels more words— _angrier_ words—coming up and he doesn’t want them to. She doesn't deserve that.

 

 

**\+ when Conner blows up for them.**

Conner has gotten his outbursts under control—or at least, more than they used to be. Despite all that, Superman still manages to get under Conner's skin and leave marks where he has no business being.

They’re standing in a circle in the Cave, watching on as Superman and Batman discuss their… less than ideal mission outcome.

“You were all irresponsible today," Batman tells them, monotonous as ever.

Dick shifts, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. “I know, Batman, but—”

“You almost _completely_ disregarded the mission for a team member’s safety.” Batman’s eyes turn to slits. “ _Your_ safety.”

“We weren’t about to just let him _die_ ,” M’Gann rebukes.

“Robin would have been—”

“No, he wouldn’t have.” All eyes turn to Conner, and he was sure that if Superman had any less self-control, he’d be a pile of ashes by now. “The structural integrity of the building was completely shot. Artemis was already out of the building, leaving the only person without powers still in the _collapsing building_. Aqualad and his Atlantean biology may have been able to take the hit. Miss Martian could have easily shifted her density to save herself any lasting damage. Kid Flash’s injuries would have been a thing of the past in less than two days. I would’ve walked it off easily.”

Superman regards Conner with narrowed eyes. “Don’t get arrogant, _Superboy_." Conner wants to sock him in his face for spitting his name like that. “That’s what puts you all in these situations.”

“If you have a problem with me, _fine_. But don’t spit in the team’s face because you hate me. We made the best decision, and just because the League puts the mission first doesn’t mean we have to.” Conner turns his glare on Batman. “I’m sure the news would have _loved_ to broadcast the story of the dead child superhero.”

“Watch yourself,” Superman warns.

“Or what? You’ll put me back in the pod where you think I belong?” Conner takes threatening steps towards Superman. “Don’t question us because you’re heartless.”

Kaldur takes in a breath to say something, but Conner is already leaving the room.

“No need, Kaldur. I’m leaving.”

“You’re coming back, right?” M’gann whispers under her breath.

 _Of course_ , he thinks, as loud as he possibly can. M’gann’s heart rate picking up is enough of a response for him.


	3. Artemis Crock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five time Artemis feels like an outsider, and the first time she doesn't.

**The first time, it’s the actual first time.**

Artemis doesn’t fit. Putting her on this team is like watching a child trying to shove the circle shape into the square hole; she kind of just wants it to stop. Kid Flash clearly isn’t having it, and she considers telling Ollie to just fabricate another lie, something that lets her out of… _here_. But then Wally gives her one more glare, and her need for competition flares up.

She looks on, unwelcome, and makes note of the way this "team" works. They seem to have a relative grip on how to function like a cohesive unit, but there’s an undoubted need for work. Her presence does nothing to help, of course.

When she’s officially welcomed to the team, Artemis thinks she sees something lurking behind Wally’s eyes, underneath the blatant animosity. She stores that image away for later.

Her smile is fake, meaningless; she’ll be shunned from the group sooner or later.

 

**The second time, the reminiscing makes her want to hurl.**

Attachments aren’t her thing. _People_ aren’t her thing. Friends are the _farthest_ thing from her thing.

It’s clearly all of theirs.

She’s meandering in the kitchen when she hears it, the mingle of laughs from three different voices. M'gann's laugh is nothing short of delighted.

“Come _on_ , Wall!" Robin. "That’s not fair!”

“You don’t get to talk to me about what’s _fair_ , Boy Wonder. I’m going to embarrass your ass until kingdom come for that—”

She thinks it's Kaldur that tuts. “Language, Wally.”

“—and there is nothing you can do to stop me.”

It’s about one of their first missions together as sidekicks of the famous Batman and Flash. Roy’s name is dropped several times, and she almost slams the milk carton onto the counter to get the words out of her head.

This _sucks_.

 

**The third time, It’s a villain.**

“You get rid of one archer and jump on the chance for another one? Classy, even for you sidekicks.”

Artemis withholds from launching an arrow right into his ugly mug. It could probably handle an explosive one, she’s sure. And if not? Eh. She has more important things to worry about.

No one defends her. She expected nothing else.

As she continues letting arrows fly with impressive accuracy, she wants to remind this monster that she is, in fact, a fantastic archer in her own right. She knows it would be wasted breath, and that this low-life shouldn't make her need to defend herself.

M'gann's eyes glow as she lifts her hand to throw something. She freezes a second later as Conner lets out a cry, launching himself at the enemy. They both go flying, and a moment later, Conner is walking away with a neutral expression on his face.

“He’s out,” he explains, walking passed Artemis.

Robin tilts his head, eyeing the rubble and dust. “I guess we’ll… call the League?”

Artemis wants to ask if all of their missions sour this way, but they’re all facing each other with contemplative expressions.

They probably wouldn’t want to answer the question anyway.

 

 

**The fourth time, she’s supposed to agree with them.**

They’re all on edge, and it’s no secret why; Clark had slipped up earlier, calling the lot of them sidekicks. M’gann, of course, doesn’t feel the same unhappiness about it, but it’s clear she’s empathizing with the rest of her team. Artemis tries to keep her distance, because the last thing she needs is thinking a thought too hard and for M'gann to pick it up without much effort.

Wally kicks a rock, petulance rolling off him in waves. “Haven’t we garnered _some_ respect from the League by now? I mean come _on_! We’ve completed so many missions, and yet, here we are, getting scolded like children who can barely spell!”

“Well, glad to know you can describe yourself.”

Okay, yeah, that was a little uncalled for, but when there’s an opportunity to insult Wally, what else is she supposed to do?

Kaldur’s brow twitches, and Artemis thinks she fears for her life for a second. “Artemis, now is not the time for this useless game you have going on with Wally.”

“Does it not upset you?” Robin asks helplessly. Never angry, because Batman's protégé is just beyond that. “What would you do if GA still called you his sidekick?”

“He doesn’t,” she explains nonchalantly. “He just trains me.”

Wally seems impossibly more irritated with her. She relishes in it, but that strange pitfall in her gut—she ignores it.

It’s not her fault they’re so easily offended.

 

 

**The fifth time—it’s absolutely ridiculous, in her opinion.**

There’s something to be said about friendships. Artemis knows the value they can hold, sees it everyday when she so much as looks at her… _teammates_ —because that’s what they were now, she guesses. Teammates. Comrades. Brothers and sister in arms. All that jazz. And it’s well and dandy, except for when it’s not.

Her dad would laugh right in her face for thinking like this. For wanting something close, something to look forward to. Her mom is amazing, don’t get her wrong, but Artemis can’t exactly launch a pretzel at her and call her an idiot while she smiles like an even _bigger_ idiot.

The Team, though, can do without her.

_Didn’t I drill it into you enough when you were younger? You’re a weapon, kid. You don’t need friends._

She wishes with her whole heart that she could banish her father’s voice from her head. Even if that was the case, though, if there was no other influence holding her back, that doesn’t change the fact that she’s not wanted.

It’s fine. She doesn’t need friends.

But _fuck_ if she doesn’t want them.

 

**\+ when she feels welcomed**

Artemis is scribbling the rest of her history notes when M’gann floats her way into her vision.

“Artemis!” Her amber eyes shimmer as she clasps her hands in front of her. “We’re going out to the mall for some Christmas shopping. Do you want to come with us?”

Before Artemis could decline in her crass manner, Dick walks in. Smirk dancing in his lips, nothing about the way he'd carrying himself calms Artemis. “You can’t give her a choice, M. She’ll just say no.”

“You assuming I want to go anywhere with you, Boy Wonder?”

“I’m not assuming. I know you want to. I’m suming.”

Artemis can’t fight the smile blooming on her face. “If I agree to come, will you stop butchering the English language?”

Dick shakes his head. He places his arms across the back of her shoulders and his jaw on the top of her head. “Please?”

“Artemis," Wally calls from behind her, "if you don’t get your butt off that couch and walking with us in the next two seconds, I’m carrying you.”

She tosses her hair over her shoulder, smirking flirtatiously. “That a promise?”

Wally rolls his eyes, mouth twitching with a smile that won’t fully appear. “Just get up.”

Artemis’ chest is dancing in every way she didn’t know was possible as she places the books back in her bag. She knows the unit, anyway, a few missing sentences of study notes aren’t going to be the death of her. As she moves to walk beside Wally to the Zeta Tube, she feels him bump his shoulders against hers.

She laughs for what feels like the first time in forever.

Kaldur smiles at her for a brief second. Conner nods at her in his very typical I-like-you-but-don’t-know-how-to-smile way. M’gann takes one more moment to float above them, before falling in step with the rest of them. Dick and Wally are bickering meaninglessly on either side of her, and Artemis—

She’s excited to spend some time with her friends.


	4. Wally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times Wally feels like a failure, and the first time he's proved wrong.

**The first time, it’s Barry—or rather, Barry happens to be there.**

Wally is jumping and vibrating and zipping all around, hopefully to quiet his racing mind. His feet might be making burn marks into the ground, but there’s buzzing in his brain and he’s not exactly sure he can make it go away without movement. Barry agreed to meet him here, and taking into consideration that the fastest man alive had yet to show up—

Wally may or may not be getting just a _little_ anxious.

But then there’s a red blur, and they’re off to stop a bank robbery before most of the robbers can even blink. It should be easy—it _is_ easy—but Wally is too distracted by the itch covering every inch of his body to put all his focus into incapacitating the thugs.

A bullet grazes his shoulder, and he goes flailing down to the ground with a sharp cry of pain. He almost curses, but he knows swearing has gotten him nowhere with any adult.

“ _Kid_!”

Barry, of course, easily takes out the remaining two robbers. Wally watches on, his own body already starting to take care of the wound. He knows Barry is older, but watching him do this job so much better than Wally could ever dream—it hurts, and he doesn’t dare think of why.

Barry stops effortlessly in front of him.

“You could have gotten _seriously_ hurt! Where was your head, kid?” Barry’s azure eyes are wide and his jaw clenched just a touch. Oh god, he’s _angry_. If Wally’s head was on straight, he’d know that isn’t the case.

“I’m sorry…” he whispers— _barely_.

“You—“ Barry sighs quietly, body relaxing. “Just be careful, okay?”

Wally nods.

 

 

**The second time, it’s school.**

Wally’s smart. He knows this. He has the IQ, technically, to pass every single course with flying colours—except visual art, because _no_. It’s just that, after the whole ‘recreate-the-very-dangerous-and-potentially-lethal-lab-accident-that-gave-Barry-powers’ thing, his mind doesn’t know how to _slow the fuck down_.

God, his mother would have his head for such language. Not that it took much for his parents to disapprove, really.

Back to his mile-a-minute brain.

The glaring 67% creates a giant pit in his stomach. _God_ , he’s smarter than this. He’s _better_ than this.

Dick would cackle like he always does, tell him to actually study for once—the hypocrite—and Wally would laugh it off like it didn’t dig into the farther recesses of his brain. Maybe he should have gone for drama instead of VA, for his art credit. He’s clearly good at acting like things don’t bother him. Or Dick is a good enough friend to not pester him about it.

Whatever.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to tell his parents. Letting it stew until they’re told at a parent-teacher interview is not an option. Lying to them is even less of an option. The only thing he can do is just hand them the paper, promise to do better next time, and hope to whatever power is listening that they don’t shun him for not being the stellar student he’s supposed to be.

What would be worse, ground him and keep him away from his duties as Kid Flash until he fixes an issue he doesn’t even fully understand.

 

 

**The third time, it’s the League.**

So, Cadmus is no more. Which is a _very_ good thing, he knows. Superboy is standing next to him. He nudges him gently, pointing up at the moon.

“Told ya.”

And then the _League_ descends from the fucking _sky_. There are two Lanterns, and he knows they’re screwed.

Of course, he’s proud of what he did. He did what he was trained and taught to do; save someone who couldn’t save themselves. Or, in Superboy’s case, save someone who would’ve created a hole in the Earth trying to save himself. He would have done it all again.

But then Barry is looking at him with that _look_. _Disappointment_.

Isn’t this what being a hero is all about? He _knows_ it is, and if he takes a step back, he knows he’ll see that there are few other things the League would have done differently. And, more importantly, even less things that could have been done to stop Blockbuster.

 _You should have called_ , he says, as if he— _they_ weren’t capable of handling a rogue _creature_ on their own. Like Wally-- _they_ have managed to screw up even the simplest of tasks.

Like he’d done nothing _right_.

His hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck harshly, finding a patch of torn uniform to pull at his skin. It’s a bad habit, but the sensation takes away from the guilt and shame hollowing out his chest.

Dick shifts imperceptibly closer. Wally doesn’t let himself take the comforting luxury. He hopes Dick doesn’t interpret it the wrong way.

Then Kaldur starts speaking, and Wally pretends he’s got zero shame about what he’s done—and, to be fair, the longer he stands by his friends, the less guilty he feels.

Wally doesn’t look Barry in the eyes, though. He can’t. He’s afraid he’ll find every one of his flaws in them.

 

**The fourth time, it’s his parents.**

They’re looking at him like they don’t even know him. Which, really, they kind of don’t. Not really. Not anymore.

“Why are you biting off more than you can chew?”

He knows Artemis would chime in at this point with something like ‘that’s how he powers himself up’, but he shoves that thought aside. “I’m not.”

“You don’t act like yourself anymore.”

 _Did I forget to mention the fact that I died? That I’ve watched my friends get stabbed and shot at and burned?_ Wally, trying to calm his breathing, feels **concern** lace into his brain. Fuck, he needs to control his thoughts. He doesn’t know if he can shut himself off completely, but he’s going to very well try. “School’s been keeping me busy. And being Kid Flash.”

“I just don’t know where my son went.” His mother reaches for a tissue, but Wally doesn’t see any tears. “It’s like we don’t know who you are.” She blows her nose, and the sound definitely isn’t as snot-y as it would be if she was crying.

“I’m sorry, mom, dad, but—”

“Can’t you see your mother is _upset_ , Wallace?” his father hisses. Wally bites his lip hard enough for copper to roll over his tongue as he shifts back further into the couch. He fiddles with his hand, mind reeling as he thinks of how often his parents worry over him. How often they want to do what’s best for him. How often he lets them down, worries them.

He thinks he feels Artemis and Dick reach out to him. He ignores it, for now.

“Did we do something _wrong_ , son?”

He listens to them as they list a handful of times when he should have called, or even stayed home entirely. When he should have put his family before his game of dress up.

He stops listening after a while, just to see if Artemis and Dick are still there. Breathing becomes easier when they are.

 

**The fifth time, it’s Barry—again, not directly his fault.**

Wally is putting way more effort into running than he should be. He should bee faster by now. He shouldn’t have to struggle to catch up to Barry. He shouldn’t have to watch as his uncle laps him _repeatedly._

Barry doesn’t even see the issue, the saint. He just sees Wally doing his best, and that getting upset isn’t the right course of action. Wally thinks, for a bitter moment, that maybe Barry snapping at him would push him just over the edge enough to _finally_ have the speed he wants. Maybe he managed to fuck up the recreation of the experiment, too. It wouldn’t be a shock, at this point.

Pity is finally taken on Wally when Barry skids to a stop beside him. Wally stop trying to push himself, and ends up tumbling. The pain barely registers as he tries to get his world back on its axis.

“Wally, be _careful_.”

“Why,” he spits, “because I’m half the speedster you are?”

Barry looks hurt, but right now, in this moment, that’s not what Wally is focusing on. “You know I don’t think that.”

“It’s true, though, isn’t it? That no matter how hard I try, you’ll always be faster. I’ll ever be able to outgrow the Kid Flash name because that’s what I _am_. A junior version of you.” Tears burn behind his eyes. ‘That’s all I’ll ever be.”

“ _Wally_ —”

“I have to go, Uncle B. I told M’Gann and Kaldur that I’d be at the cave to help them with some Team stuff. I’ll let you know if they need an actual runner.”

 

 

**\+ when he feels as special as he is.**

“Wally, you magnificent _bastard_!” Dick leaps into his arms, and Wally makes note of how fast his friend is bulking up. He’d be jealous of the fact that he didn’t have this muscle at fifteen, but it would have just slowed him down.

“It’s not a big deal, Dick—”

“That is not true.” Kaldur grips his shoulder tightly. “Without you, I think it is safe to say we all would have died.”

He ignores the fear that rises up in his throat; they’re fine, now. They’re not dead. Not _again_ , at least. “I don’t think—”

“You’re impossible to compliment,” Artemis laughs, “you know that?”

“So, I’ve been told.” He looks up at Dick, who is much too comfortable keeping his thighs wrapped around Wally’s waist. “You gonna get _down_ , Grayson?”

“Now what fun would that be?”

“A lot of high quality amusement for me, actually.”

Dick jumps down gracefully and heads for the kitchen. “You guys want anything?”

M’Gann gives Wally a quick cheek kiss, with Conner cracking a small smile as they join Kaldur on the couch.

Artemis interlocks her arm with Wally’s almost aggressively. “You did really well today, Wally. I mean it.” Her eyes drift to their team. “ _We_ mean it.”

Wally feels the Teams’ **pride** in his own chest, and he smiles; he _believes_ them.


	5. Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times Dick injures himself on a mission, and the first time he's called out on it.

**The first time, it’s a laser**.

He’s pinned to the wall by some goop-foam nonsense, and honestly, he could do without being here. Definitely very heavy on the _dis_ aster right now. He might be panicking. His hands are completely immobile and his legs are’t any better. The laser, menacing in every which way, is inching closer to his right side by the second.

**If one of you would be so kind as to _save me_!?**

They’re all varying degrees of occupied, so Dick just gets ready to scream.

And fucking _scream_ he does.

It tears and scorches his side, and he distantly notes that if it closes in any further, it’s going to nick his organs. And he knows that if that happens, there’s very little to do to properly heal him, let alone in proper enough condition to be fighting super villains again.

His mind is blank and his body is on fire, though he’s sure most of it is being absorbed by shock. His mind doesn’t register the roar of rage that sounds off in the den they’ve managed to find themselves in. The only thing Dick feels is falling into somebody’s arms before he collapses, blacking out.

 

 

**The second time, he breaks his arm.**

Dick is falling from the sky. It should be simple enough, really, to just pull out his grapple gun and shoot at a building. And it would be, but, well.

They’re kind of in the middle of fucking nowhere. He could _maybe_ send a hook into the nearest cliff, but even that’s much too far to actually do any good for Dick and his relatively fragile body.

The air is rushing around him, and his mind takes him back for just a second. A brief respite of fond memories before his instincts kick in and he’s shifting to minimize the damage of impact. Wally, ever the gentleman, catches him. It isn’t without a price, though, because the redhead comes this close to spraining his ankle and Dick is almost certain his arm is broken in several different places. Luckily, he’s proficient enough to survive the rest of the mission with one bum arm.

The Team looks on, worried, as Dick goes about his usual activities like he hadn’t just broken himself.

“I’ll be _fine_ , you guys,” he reassures. “I’ve done more with way worse injuries.”

 **Was that supposed to make us feel better?** Conner asks.

 

 

**The third time, he almost drowns.**

There’s a weight attached to Dick’s foot—what its origin is, he hasn’t found out yet—and the longer he spends submerged in water, the more frenzied his brain becomes. Despite that, he manages to focus his attention back on the task at hand: not dying.

Bruce has put him in this situation before. Literally. He has _been_ dragged down to the bottom of an ocean bed and left the room to see if Dick can get himself out in time. He has, on several occasions, but even Bruce knew that Dick was subconsciously aware that there was no way Bruce would let him die.

The ocean doesn’t share that list of morals.

He really hopes Kaldur finds him soon, because his air is running out and his vision is slowly getting to fuzzy to serve him suitably. Dick’s muscles are starting to lose their strength, his lungs are trying to cave in on themselves and—

**Never have I desired to end your life _so much_ while intent on saving it, Dick.**

**Appreciate it, Kal.**

And, again, before he can do much else, Dick passes out. He’s not terribly worried about it, though; he knows Kaldur will save him.

 

 

**The fourth time, it’s more of a threat than actual damage.**

There’s a knife to Dick’s throat.

He looks at his team, trying to tell him with his eyes alone that he’s _fine_ , just carry through with the mission, _dammit_ —

“You all would do great things for this bird of yours, no?”

Dick almost rolls his eyes at Psimon. “You need to learn to stay whelmed, Psimon. What do you think having your goon hold a knife to me is gonna do? Superboy isn’t exactly the textbook definition of _patient_.”

Wally looks at Dick like he’s gone mad. Maybe he has, but having his major blood vessels threatened probably does that to a person.

“Let him _go_ , Psimon,” M’Gann demands. “I’m not afraid to fight it out with you.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second, Martian.” Psimon walks over to him, and if Dick could spit in the bastard’s face, he _would_. “However, you do nothing I don’t command unless you want this boy’s blood decorating the floor.”

“I don’t think so.”

M’Gann’s eyes glow more intensely than Dick has ever seen them, and suddenly the knife is bent into a much less menacing shape. Reacting quickly, Dick knocks his head against his captor’s head and bolts to the rest of his team.

“Now,” he huffs, “how’s about we do some ass-kicking?”

Artemis grins wickedly. “And here I was thinking you’d never ask.”

 

**The fifth time, it’s just a whack of bruises.**

In his defence, this guy was freakishly strong.

Bruce had gone off to chase down the more threatening criminal; it wasn’t atypical for it to happen on slow nights. Dick has learned to hold out on his own considerably well over the years.

Except _now_ , everything hurts like hell. Moving hurts, thinking hurts, thinking about thinking hurts.

The thug comes back, and if Bruce could _see him now_ —well, the sheer terror of getting a Bat-lecture would spur him into action.

**Dick, get off your ass.**

**Always nice to work with you, Artemis. The League know you’re doing crime in Gotham now?**

An arrow whizzing by his ear is the only response he gets. Artemis takes down the thug with a few more carefully planted arrows, and Dick thanks her softly as he limps up into a standing position.

“You okay?”

“You want the actual answer or the one that won’t make you grey as fast?”

Artemis sighs, gently leading Dick towards the nearest Zeta. “Go back to the Bat Cave, Boy Blunder. Take the night off. Have the butler take care of you for once.”

“But—”

“I _will_ sic Batman on you. Or worse.” Artemis gives him _The Look_ , and Dick sighs.

“Thanks, Artemis.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now scram. I’ll handle this guy.”

“What would I ever do without you?”

“Rot in eternal, painful hell.”

Dick smiles at the archer. “Sounds about right.”

 

 

**\+ when he gets called out for it.**

“You know you’re _very_ breakable, right?”

Dick winces from his place on the medical wing bed. Artemis, to put it simply, is having none of it. “So I’ve been told.”

“Do you want to tell me _why_ it’s almost always you in this bed, being all broken?”

“Because the other reckless idiots are superpowered?” Artemis arches a brow. “And I’m almost certain you’re a god or something, I don’t know how you do it.”

Artemis rolls her eyes, taking a seat next to Dick on the bed. “The rest are out getting you your favourite foods and things.”

“They don’t have to—”

“Dick.” The younger shuts his mouth with a soft snap. “You know it hurts us, on more levels than one, to see you get hurt, right?”

Dick nods seriously, eyes trained on his blanket-covered feet. He’s familiar with it, feeling wisps of the pain the others are enduring. It’s never been a pleasant situation. “I know, Art. I’m sorry.”

“You should be.” Artemis’ eyes change. He doesn’t mention the tears he sees. “ _God_ , Dick, we were scared shitless. You can’t do that anymore, you got it? We love you too much.”

His breath leaves him in its entirety. “I can’t just—”

“I know. I know, you do what you have to do.” She takes Dick’s hand in hers, bringing it up to her mouth and just letting them rest against each other. “Just… donn’t forget the family that loves you when you’re throwing yourself into shit situations, okay?”

“How long you been working up the balls to say that?”

“I will _end you_ , Grayson. Don’t think I won’t.”

“Artemis?”

“What?”

“I love you guys, too.”

Wally walks in soon after, rest of the team in tow. “Dick,” he says, “you’re up.”

“Yeah.” He gives his best friend the most reassuring smile he can. “I’m okay.”

“You better be. Or I _would_ have killed you.”

“That seems to be a recurring theme.”

M’Gann presses a hand to the side of his face, eyes soft as she gazes down at him. **You’re sure you’re okay?**

**With all of you guys in the room? How could I not be?**


	6. M'Gann M'Orzz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times M'Gann considers going back home, and the first time she realizes she's found it.

**The first time, it’s when she makes a horrible fool of herself.**

She supposes she could have read up a little more on Earth customs before he actually made her way to Earth, but using her telepathy to communicate just seemed so natural.

Maybe this is a mistake.

No, it isn’t. She won’t let it. This is going to be the fantastic experience she knew it would be, and she won’t let this get in her way.

She wishes she _could_ use her… _powers_ , though—because that’s what they are here. Powers. Extraordinary abilities. Unnatural. Things unwelcome.

M’Gann is an alien, and it doesn’t really hit her until now. Will she be able to handle this, shoving this down? Before she drew back from their minds, she felt their shock and, even more prominent, their flashes of fear. She doesn’t make a large note of Superboy’s anger, because even she knows what extenuating circumstances caused the reaction. She understands that each mind is an intricate tangle of wires and networks, that not everyone takes things the same way or in the same strides.

She just hopes she can blend in well enough to not raise any suspicions. While she may miss Ma’aleca’andra— _Mars_ , she reminds herself—she knows that hiding herself is a _much_ better option.

 

**The second time, it’s when she overhears a conversation.**

“My brother did the absolutely cutest thing last night.”

M’Gann bites her lip as she ties her shoes. Her mind supplies her with images of her siblings, practically a dozen of them in total, and she isn’t a fan of the mix of emotions that comes with the memories. She loves her siblings, of course, especially M’Comm. She remembers the strolls they would take, among the peaks and valleys of Mars’ terrain, and M’Gann has to hold herself back from crying.

Would M’Comm resent her? For leaving like she did? She knows it may seem cowardly, but she had to do it; one more day of being treated horribly because of her _biology_ —she wouldn’t have lasted. There was no way it wouldn’t have ended horribly.

M’Gann sighs. She tunes out of the conversation—not that she had much business being _in it_ in the first place—and adjusts her cheerleading top. She needs to focus.

 

 

**The third time, it’s actually when she’s happy.**

They had a successful mission for the first time in a while, and she flipping in the air about it. She’s over the damn _moon_ , and she flies to the kitchen to hopefully celebrate. The rest of the team slowly files into the room, and she almost, _almost_ reaches out to them.

M’Gann has to stop from berating herself. It’s a habit she’s gotten used to, sure, but she needs to learn how to put an end to it, and _now_.

She sets a pot of water to simmer to melt the chocolate.

Her mind feels jarringly empty without the thoughts of those she cares about to fill it. She looks on at the rest of the Team, and sighs; while there were many things she wouldn’t miss about her home planet, being able to communicate the way she’s used to will always be something she seeks.

She curses to herself when the water boils over.

 

 

**The fourth time, it actually isn’t that great.**

People talk about Miss Martian as if she’s some despicable creature. They talk about the new Martian with _fear_ , and M’Gann truly can’t bring herself to understand it. She’s used to being talked about with… a lack of empathy, or even a shred of kindness, but this just sits strangely with her.

M’Gann finds herself online more than she’d care to admit. She sees the people that don’t care for her, the few that go so far as to hate her, but the ones that _fear her_ —it frustrates her. She’s almost tempted to think of how much better it would be back home, where instead of striking fear into the hearts of the race she has nothing against, she was simply treated as less.

Soon after, though, M’Gann realizes that’s no way for a hero to act. She knows that there will always be the people that are against her, against change. But there are also people that appreciate what her and her friends do, and that’s enough for M’Gann to take a deep breath and toss her phone away.

Just once more, her brain whispers how much easier it would have been to lay low back home.

 

 

**The fifth time, it’s when she messes up.**

M’Gann knows that it isn’t healthy to blame herself this much for her error. It happens, and no one was seriously injured, but she should be more proficient with her powers by this point. Artemis tries to comfort her. It doesn’t really work, but M’Gann appreciates it nonetheless.

Why did she _come here_? The longer she stays, the more she realizes that she’s created a fantasy of what Earth is. She learned everything she knows from a show that is, upon asking Wally in passing once, _extremely_ outdated. She should really leave. Go back to Mars. Save these poor people the chore of cleaning up the mess of her naivety. Save herself from the embarrassment of messing up so horribly.

“Hey, Megan.”

M’Gann spins around to smile at Robin. “Hey, Robin.”

“What’s keeping you from feeling whelmed?”

She’s always found Robin’s play on words incredibly endearing. “Nothing. Really, I’m fine.”

“I don’t need to be a telepath to know you’re upset about the mission, Miss M.”

M’Gann sighs. “Am I that obvious?”

“Kind of,” Robin says with a shrug. “But hey, don’t sweat it. We’re okay.”

“I know.”

“And even more importantly, you helped us out a lot.” He smiles at her. “I’m glad you joined the Team.”

M’Gann begins to wonder what she ever missed about her home planet, in that moment.

 

 

**\+ when she realizes she’s found home.**

Dick rolls his eyes. “M, please, don’t even test me.”

M’Gann scoffs as she pulled yet another successful batch of Danishes from the oven. “Are you _seriously_ going to tell me that you’re laying claim on _all_ of the chocolate ones?”

“I don’t see the problem.”

Wally leans over Dick’s shoulder to grab one, but with one well-aimed hit to his pec is enough to deter the Speedster. “What the _fuck_ , man?”

“These are all mine. M’Gann just made some raspberry ones, take those.”

“Is this what happens when people cook for you? Because this is horrible.” Wally looks at her with false seriousness as **fondness** fills her heart. “Stop baking for him. He’s a monster, now.”

Artemis struts in soon after, nabbing the pastry right out of Wally’s hands. “You made these, M’Gann?”

“I did,” M’Gann chirps. “I figured, you know, we had the rest of the day off, and I’ve never actually made these right before.”

She feels Kaldur’s presence become stronger than it had been before. **Are you baking, M’Gann?**

**You could hop out of the water and find out.**

**Amusement. Very well. I will join you all in a moment.**

M’Gann grins at Conner as he walks into kitchen, the latter practically perking up at the sight of freshly-baked goods. “You want some, Conner?”

“You better get on it quick,” Wally mutters. “Dick’s gone rabid.”

“Fuck you, West.”

“Maybe later.”

Conner takes the Danish from M’Gann’s hands, and as she looks on at her friends, feeling Kaldur getting closer to where they all are, she smiles. This may not be what she came to Earth for, but hell if she won’t fight with her life to keep them by her side.


End file.
